HARLEQUIN’S TAILORS: LETTERS FROM ICELAND Sara Greaves To cite this version: Sara Greaves. HARLEQUIN’S TAILORS: LETTERS FROM ICELAND. Viatica, Université Cler- mont Auvergne, 2016, Ecrire le voyage à deux / Travel-Writing in Partnership. hal-01409613 HAL Id: hal-01409613 https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-01409613 Submitted on 6 Dec 2016 HAL is a multi-disciplinary open access L’archive ouverte pluridisciplinaire HAL, est archive for the deposit and dissemination of sci- destinée au dépôt et à la diffusion de documents entific research documents, whether they are pub- scientifiques de niveau recherche, publiés ou non, lished or not. The documents may come from émanant des établissements d’enseignement et de teaching and research institutions in France or recherche français ou étrangers, des laboratoires abroad, or from public or private research centers. publics ou privés. Published on Viatica (http://viatica.univ-bpclermont.fr) HARLEQUIN’S TAILORS: LETTERS FROM ICELAND BY W. H. AUDEN AND LOUIS MACNEICE Écrire le voyage à deux – Travel Writing in Partnership Sara GREAVES Writing for four hands or more is gaining ground in contemporary academia, including in the humanities where it is still far less the norm than in the sciences, and with the current interest in cross-discipline research, chalk-and-cheese partnerships of all kinds are appearing. In the creative arts and in particular literature, the special status of the singular (in both senses of the word) author continues to command respect – and nowhere more so than in poetry –despite being under attack from textual practices derived from intertextuality, translation theory and creative writing, as well as from writers actually joining forces and writing in tandem. As Lafon and Peeters noted in their 2006 enquiry into four-handed literary writing, Nous est un autre1, literary partnerships are not a recent phenomenon, but literary history has tended to brush aside their specificities – worse, their literary productions are often attributed to the better-known author, the other being simply overlooked. This is unfair to the other author, while also depriving readers and critics of valuable insights into the complex dynamics of collective creation. Letters from Iceland(1937) by W. H. Auden and Louis MacNeice2, a travel book in prose and verse, is an intriguing, paradoxical work, all the more so when we look at it from the point of view of four-handed writing. The two authors are major Thirties poets, if not the major Thirties poets, MacNeice in some cases being given precedence over Auden3 . Nevertheless Letters from Iceland is often seen as part of Auden’s oeuvre, with MacNeice’s contributions tending to be neglected4. In the course of their careers both poets collaborated with other artists (Benjamin Britten for Auden and MacNeice, Stravinsky for Auden, writers Stephen Spender and Christopher Isherwood for Auden), and both would go on to undertake other travel book commissions (Auden and Isherwood’s celebrated Journey to a War [1939]°, MacNeice’s I Crossed the Minch [1938], with illustrations by Nancy Coldstream). Although the presentation of the French translation states that a contract with Faber & Faber for a travel book was signed by both poets5, Humphrey Carpenter in his well- researched biography of Auden writes that it began as a one-author commission, proposed to the publisher by Auden after he learnt that a group of schoolboys and their schoolmaster, Michael Yates, from the school he had formerly taught at, Bryanston School, were planning a hiking trip to Iceland in the following summer holidays (1936)6. At some point – Auden had forgotten when – MacNeice was invited to join Auden there and collaborate on the book. Auden would spend three th th months in Iceland, MacNeice joining him on 9 August until they took the passage back together on 10 September. The following year the book was published under a joint authorship. What, we may ask, was the nature of the writing partnership behind those two names? Less than the sum of its parts Page 1/10 If Letters from Iceland has received less attention from critics than it seems to deserve7, this is probably (paradoxically) due to the greatness of the two poets as individuals, their other works overshadowing this one, and to the fact that the poems it contains were rapidly published in other collections (“Epilogue For W. H. Auden”, for instance, signed Louis MacNeice, was published inThe Earth Compels in 1938).The book is a literary anomaly whose disconcerting combination of quirkiness, apparent formlessness and in-jokes has led to critics giving it a rather wide berth. Running the risk of becoming a “hodge-podge”8, it subverts whatever it purports to be: as a travel narrative, although going through some of the paces, providing a large quantity of facts and observations, it falls short of expectations because the “connection” between travellers and “travelled” doesn’t really take place. As a modernist collage, it fails to deliver for various reasons: because its “democratic” tone is inconsistent with high modernism, because it doesn’t appear to be an autonomous, autotelic artefact but on the contrary to be composed of a miscellany ranging from poetry to private letters to pages of facts and figures, not to mention a camp exercise in transgendered comic fiction, and also because both poets have plundered it and published discrete parts elsewhere. As J. M. Wilson notes: Auden and MacNeice [...] seem to insist that we embrace their book precisely because it is less than the sum of its parts, and to speak of it as an artistic whole risks taking seriously what was not seriously intended, risks promoting to high art what was meant as an idyll for the casual tripper awaiting his passage – or, rather, as an in-joke for the Oxbridge aesthete9. The implication is that their collaboration as such was merely contingent on circumstance and that what mattered were the individual achievements and the poets’ personal trajectories. This reading is reinforced by such works as John Fuller’s W. H. Auden: A Commentary10,which elucidates the more obscure references only in Auden’s contributions toLetters from Iceland. Interestingly, not all of these pieces are individually ascribed, possibly precisely because the poets did not consider some of the unsigned ones worthy of separate publication (they include the prose sections “For Tourists” and “Sheaves from Sagaland” and the hilarious epistolary fiction entitled “Hetty to Nancy”); however, another reason for the absence of authorial designation may be that they in fact arose from the poets’ inter-personal dynamics and exchanges during the trip. Certainly, these unsigned pieces are consistent with the hypothesis of an intellectual and personal congeniality, if not an actual writing partnership as came about in the final chapter of the book, “Their Last Will and Testament”, in which double authorship is at last proclaimed. Double authorship, however, is a beleaguered concept, as Lafon and Peeters have shown. Marguerite Duras, for instance, maintains that solitude is a necessary pre-requisite for writing and asserts: “Personne n’a jamais écrit à deux voix. On a pu chanter à deux voix, faire de la musique aussi, et du tennis, mais écrire, non. Jamais11.” Auden and MacNeice clearly disagreed with this, and yet, as we have seen, publishing elsewhere poems from the book could only detract from any sense of unity. We seem to be faced with a book that is a paradoxical book, and a writing partnership that is equally paradoxical. What seems certain is that there was no plan to write a joint book at the outset, and that the travel book on Iceland was very much Auden’s project – or rather his pretext. For it should be noted that his motives for going to Iceland were not the ambition to throw himself into the experience of another country and confront the exotic Other; indeed, as his biographer Humphrey Carpenter writes: Auden had several motives for the journey. One was sheer curiosity to see Iceland, which had been, as he put it, ‘holy ground’ in his imagination since childhood, thanks to his father’s enthusiasm for all things Icelandic. But he seems also to have hoped that by distancing himself a little, both geographically and culturally, from his own life and from European society and its crises he might obtain a better view of himself and his environment. There was, too, an element of sheer fun in the project; it was to be a holiday, a temporary escape12. The reasons Carpenter gives are all personal and “endotic”, the Other’s space representing at best a personal, perhaps psychoanalytical quest to visit the “holy ground” marked out by his father’s saga-telling, at worst a temporary escape from European politics13. Certainly, joint authorship as a project per se does not come into the picture; all we know is that the two poets respected each other’s poetry: “MacNeice had admired Auden’s poetry for many years, and often reviewed it very enthusiastically. Auden in his turn greatly valued what he described as MacNeice’s resistance in his own poetry to ‘fake feelings’ Page 2/10 14.” Mutual respect is of course necessary for such a collaboration, as Auden subsequently observed, but does little to explain what brought it about, why Auden asked his former fellow Oxonian to join him. Whether he did so before he left or once in Iceland, we may wonder whether the prospect of having to write a travel book – something Auden felt singularly ill- equipped for – was so daunting that he wrote to MacNeice for help. Did he feel threatened by the existential anxieties attendant on Iceland’s arid, empty solitudes, did he fear that the G.O.